De Custodia Sanguinis
by Dagorhir
Summary: Hadrian Potter learned to expect the unexpected. However, no lessons or training could prepare him the approaching storm. When Lord Voldemort shows up in the most unlikely of places, Hadrian's convinced that whatever sanity Fate claimed to have fled for the hills because nothing in its right mind would place a Dark Lord, and his muggle hating followers, in a muggle neighborhood.
1. Chapter 1

**Author Note**

I love all manners of stories, and the ones involving Tom Riddle and our favorite Savior. I have this habit of getting these ideas in my head, and, to ensure they don't vanish, I write them down. And then I publish them here so everyone _else _can find a sense of myth and enjoyment out of what I think of. So, as you all can see, I have yet another story. Not really sure what I plan for this one, but the images were just _too _funny to keep to myself.

De Custodia Sanguins translates into 'Wards of Blood.' It's Latin (though I'm not sure if it's accurate). Given the title, this is a TRM/HP where Hadrian comes across a rather unexpected outcome in 4 Privet Drive. A new neighbor. Who just _happens _to be the very man who has been _trying _to kill him since he was a year old. The idea itself just makes me laugh.

Read, Enjoy, and _Review!_

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Hadrian Potter was many things, but _obtuse _he was not.

He scowled as he worked, braid draped over his shoulder, as the food rested on low-heat burners to keep them warm. It was difficult to think clearly, but the steady thrum of pain was something he was use to. The loud steps of feet coming down the steps an hour before nine was not. Even Petunia, his aunt, paused in her tracks as Vernon Dursley, swaying, came into the kitchen.

"Cookies, pie, and cake." Hadrian blinked at the three words, and murmured, "Cooling on the shelf, sir."

"Good." Vernon was straightening his tie, already dressed, and Hadrian idly wondered _what _was going on. It wasn't long before Dudley came waddling into the kitchen, blue eyes tired and sluggish, with a complaint on his mouth. "Why do we _all _have to go over and say hello?"

_What? _Hadrian furrowed his brow as he filled his cousin's cup, his aunt already speaking, "Because that's what _neighbors _do, Dudley. He just moved in, and Privet Drive can be daunting compared to the city. A friendly hand to help guide him to a steady, _normal _lifestyle is just what he needs!'

_Steady? Normal? From you? _Hadrian filled the plates, and quietly escaped into the front room to continue picking up the house. He had forgotten about the neighbor, though the last week should have left that impossible. Never had he seen so many moving vans in one place, and he had yet to glimpse the new faces on Privet Drive. It was something his aunt wasn't fond of either, and, given her tendency for spying on the neighbors, he wasn't sure if this trip was going to be worth it.

_Merlin, why do I have to go? _It wasn't long before Hadrian was following his relatives out of the house, the brownies, warm and mouthwatering in scent, crossed the street to the house across from theirs. 7 Privet Drive. Like DADA, the house, the largest on Privet Drive, never seemed to hold a family for longer than a year. It was a rather odd occurrence, and Hadrian was half convinced it might be haunted. _Though at least whoever lives here has enough decent to actually try to make the house look a little different._

And they did. The yard's sidewalk was converted to stepping stones, white with veins of color laced throughout, that led up to the dark, wooden porch. One of the newer additions, that. There was also a privacy fence wrapping around the house, which was a nice addition and a smart one. Even the siding had moved away from the pristine white to an off-white, the stone foundation nearly blending into the porch.

He kept behind his relatives as they stepped onto the porch, and listened to his uncle knock. There was a murmur of conversation, and then they were stepping through the doorway. As Hadrian passed through, he felt like he crossed through a veil of cold water. The inside of the house, however, was decorated in a way that was warm, alluring. Yet some of the weaponry on display discouraged looking _too _closely.

_Who the hell moved into this place? _From his aunt's look, her thoughts were along the same lines of his.

"Ah, Mr. Dursley. How nice of you to come." Hadrian frowned as his uncle said, "Not at all. We meant to come earlier, but my wife thought you would want to have the first few days to yourself. Though we have brought gifts. Boy!"

Hadrian stepped around his cousin, absently admiring a painting on the wall as he stepped up to his aunt. An ocean-side picture, the water practically glowing. When a hand brushed the back of his, intending to take the dish from his hands, he was not expecting to come face-to-face with an older Tom Riddle. Nor was he expecting to see Lucius Malfoy, Professor Snape, _or _the Lestrange brothers in the house. And they were idly relaxing near any exit, wands in hand but out of sight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author Note**

I am aiming for this story to be a bit of a humorous one, with a serious undertone, but the chapters won't be very long. It's been awhile since I've written in a world other than those I created myself, so this helps me get into a different mindset than what I'm use to. I do hope that the smaller chapters won't be too much of a problem, though I do hope everyone gets a kick out of the interactions between Hadrian, the Dursleys, and the Dark Side of The Magical World Of Wonders.

There are so many things that can be brought up. And, Hadrian being Hadrian, is going to have things to say. Even if it's dangerous.

Read, Enjoy, and _Review!_

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**Rating**: T

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One Dark Lord by the name of Tom Marvolo Riddle? Check.

Vernon and Petunia Dursley were sitting in the front room, idly chatting with the wizards spread about the room. Oblivious to the danger. Either that, or inane to the point no spell could cure their stupidity. Riddle was sitting along the main sofa, a cup of tea in hand and relaxed. He _looked _to be mildly curious about the conversation, which was currently focused on Smeltings, and Hadrian found himself growing more and more uncomfortable. Sitting next to Dudley, at the end of the couch with an untouched plate of snacks, he could _feel _the gazes of the Death Eaters focused on him.

One Severus Snape? Check.

The surely Potions Master was dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a black turtleneck. It was one of the last things he expected to see his _professor _in, but he supposed it was to be expected given where they were. Hadrian deliberately kept his gaze away from his professor's, knowing without doubt that nothing would slip underneath his gaze. Wasn't it bad enough that he had to deal with the man during school, but now in the summer too? Hadrian wondered at his lack of luck, but nibbled on a cookie when his aunt, playing the dutiful caretaker, inquired if he was feeling alright.

_As much as I would love to run... _Hadrian pushed the thought from his head, and offered a reassurance to his aunt.

"And your nephew?" Malfoy question, those steely eyes cutting into Vernon. Hadrian knew that look. Draco often got that look when he was picking something apart, especially when the answer he was looking for wasn't the one he wanted. He'd seen the younger Malfoy drag truths out of his classmates like a dentist pulled teeth. The boy was alarmingly good at it. "Does he and Dudley not go to the same school?"

An inquisitive, eerily keen Lucius Malfoy? Check.

"Hadrian here goes to a different school." Vernon swallowed a mouthful of the tea he was drinking, and sat the cup on the table. "St. Brutus, that one. Bad apples don't fall far from the tree, if you understand me."

Again there were eyes on him, and Hadrian raised an eyebrow. "I like blowing things up. People especially."

Riddle's eyes narrowed slowly, and Vernon chocked on the brownie he bit into. Petunia hissed under her breath, a sharp intake of breath, and Dudley scooted away from him. Hadrian bit into his snack, and turned his gaze on Vernon as he inquired, "Is Aunt Marge doing any better, Uncle? I haven't heard from her in some time."

"S-S-She's fine, boy." His uncle was staring him down, punishment shining in his eyes, and Hadrian smiled. He sat the empty plate on the table as a hand fell on his shoulder. He eyed the long fingers, and then followed it up to the person it belonged to. Rabastan, if he recalled his name right. Rodulphus was next to him, and asked, tone polite, "And why do you blow people up? It isn't a healthy thing for a young boy, such as yourself, to do."

Rabastan and Rodulphus Lestrange? Check.

"Like I said, the apple didn't fall far from the tree." Vernon cut in, and turned his gaze on him. "St. Brutus is good for you, _isn't _it?"

"Of course."

It wasn't long before they left the house, but Hadrian felt their gazes on his back all the way inside 4 Privet Drive.

Idly, he wondered why 7 was across from 4 when it should have been 5.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author Note**

Thank you _all _for reviewing! Six reviews, as of right now. Six! Despite the short chapters, I am happy that everyone is enjoying the story (417 views, however, is very pleasant). I am aiming at making every chapter around a thousand words. The story portion of it. The note up here doesn't count. Not really. Anyway, here is yet another update! I hope it meets everyone's satisfaction.

Read, Enjoy, and _Review!_

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Marvolo Slytherin blinked owlishly as the Dursleys scurried from his makeshift home. His gaze shifted to Lucius and Severus, both whom were regarding the door with rather comical expressions. Lucius wore a look of utter disbelief. The man, usually schooled in both expression and posture, was open as a book and his eyes, often narrowed, were wide. Severus looked like he inhaled a handful too many sour lemon drops. The brothers were more on the expressionless side, their brows furrowed and their minds busy. He didn't even bother attempting to delve into their minds. It often gave him a headache.

"Did he..." Lucius paused, as if uncertain of voicing his thoughts, before letting out a long exhale. "...did he just indirectly confess to blowing up his _aunt?"_

Marvolo, once known as Tom Riddle and Lord Voldemort, asked himself the same question. The boy's discomfort had been obvious, but, not once, had he even made an effort to inform his relatives. He antagonized them. The whale had chocked on the 'blowing things up' comment, and, as much as the reminder of his own defeat so many years ago, he felt a trickle of amusement. The boy had some bite, after all.

The thought was one that refused to slip from his thoughts. Such reckless behavior was something he would expect from a Lion, but the way Potter had met his eyes, those killer green irises dark and unyielding... Marvolo frowned. S_omething _was off. A challenge of some form. It was one of the few ways to explain the way the boy had outright...

"They're afraid of him." All eyes swiveled directly to Rabastan, the tall wizard still frowning. He was flexing his hand with the most peculiar look he had ever seen on the typically indifferent man's face. Wary suspicion with an side of boiling fury. When he noted everyone was staring at him, he frowned. Marvolo leveled the unmarried Lestrange with a look, and the man explained, "Blase comment aside, they went out of their way to exclude him from the conversation."

The Dark Lord sipped his tea, wheels turning as he regarded the men around him.

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The next day, Hadrian's back, and sides, throbbed.

He knelt in the garden outside, the heat scorching as he worked, and rocked back on his heels after pulling the last weed free from the garden. He eyed the small black snake curled up on a stone, sighing as he watched it bath in the heat of the sun, and, after a hesitant look over his shoulder, hissed, _'It isn't safe for you here. You are better off finding a different stone to rest upon.'_

Small, keen black eyes focused on him. Hadrian regarded the snake with a curious tilt of his head as it hissed back, _'Why should I leave my rock when it is warm?'_

He smiled at the innocent question. Hadrian idly ran a finger along the scales as he murmured, _'Because there are others inside who do not like you or your kind. The rock will be cold if they see you.'_

After some probing, Hadrian scooped the small serpent into his pocket, and went about his work with it nestled in the warmth of his clothing. It hissed out small compliments every so often, and the small creature brought a shadow of a smile to his face. He was rounding the house, heading for the front yard, when he noticed Riddle leaning against the small fence. Red eyes found his in moments, and, with the empty driveway, knew he was alone.

Again.

"Riddle."

"You blew up your aunt?"

Hadrian blinked at the comment. His gaze slowly shifted to the right, and he noted Lucius, dressed in slacks and a white shirt, staring at 4 Privet Drive while Snape glared. Hadrian met his professor's gaze for a moment before diverting it to the rest of his surroundings. He didn't see the Lestrange brothers, but he didn't doubt that they were near. The small snake in his pocket came out, wrapped around his hand, as it asked, _'Who are these people? Are they nice? Do they have food? Warm rocks?'_

Hadrian stared at the small black snake wrapped around his hand, green eyes slowly blinking before turning back to the three wizards blocking his path. Riddle was holding him under his gaze, no doubt demanding an answer wordlessly, and sighed. First he invaded Riddle's house, and now Riddle, and his men, were loitering on the sidewalk outside of 4 Privet Drive. Blood Wards, maybe.

"St. Brutus?" Hadrian's gaze shifted to the blonde noble, and then back to the Dark Lord who was still regarding him with narrowed eyes. There was something thoughtful in those eyes, dangerous but thoughtful. Resigned, Hadrian said, "St. Brutus is the school they use as a cover-up for me being a wizard. As for Marge..."

_No reason to bring up 'For the Clinically Insane' portion of the title into the discussion. _He pictured their reactions, and it was tempting to tell them. If only to learn how a wizarding family differs from a muggle one. A pureblood family, at that. Weasleys aside, he was idly curious as to how children were raised when they were born with the knowledge of magic and raised with it woven into every aspect of life.

When a long arm trapped him against the fence, placed between his arm and side, he found himself staring into red eyes. Hadrian blinked, eyes slightly unfocused by the sudden closeness, and held those eyes without complaint. He figured Riddle wanted something, though _what _he could want, that involved invading his personal space, was beyond him.

"For a wizard working for the Light, you seem rather at ease surrounded by those following the path opposing yours." Marvolo's tone was soft, and Hadrian's brow furrowed. He cocked his head to the side, green eyes blinking as he replied, "Magic's magic. I don't really care if you're Dark. And I don't really care if someone chooses to be a Death Eater. I do, however, care about getting my chores done before the Dursleys get home."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author Note**

Okay, my intention was for this to be 1000 words, but I came up a bit short. My apologies. However, if there are scenes or events that you all would like to see, or something in the previous books before his fifteenth birthday, place it in the comments. Suggests are always welcome (they can spark creative juices...and you never know, they might appear in the story). This is a shorter chapter, but, as for now, it'll have to do.

Read, Enjoy, and _Review!_

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He didn't understand _why _the boy always had to be so _problematic_.

Severus scowled as he watched the interaction between the boy and the Dark Lord, obsidian eyes narrowed in thought. Hadrian Potter, by all accounts, should not be leaning against that fence, _relaxed, _in the manner he was. It was suicidal. Yet the teenager, not yet fifteen, was leaning into the fence, arm draped casually over the one trapping him there, with a curious gleam to his eyes. It was almost like the boy knew they couldn't do anything, not in public with the neighbor watching them with curious eyes. But, surely, the boy had _some _common sense.

"And why are you _here, _doing chores, while your relatives are gone?" Marvolo's tone was casual, his stance at ease, but Severus took note of the fact that the smallest movement would drop the Dark Lord's wand directly into his ever-waiting hand. The question was a valid one, and Lucius, attention turning to them, seemed to take an interest in the answer as well. The blonde added to the unanswered question as he said, "I would think that they'd take you with them considering your...status."

"And what status might that be, Malfoy?" Hadrian inquired, raven hair slipping from its restraints. The boy jumped slightly when Marvolo took one inky black strand between his fingers, curling it around his finger as he answered in Lucius's stead. "You _are _famous, Potter. Given the money they are undoubtedly getting for taking care of you...I image they dote upon you."

Severus noted the way the boy blinked his eyes, a whirl of confusion quickly masked. The boy shrugged one shoulder, pale skin peeking out as the sleeve slipped, voice soft as he said, "Well, I'm not one for the spotlight. And I like gardening, anyway. The quiet is preferable to the noise they unintentionally call upon themselves."

A defensive answer, if he had ever heard one. One well disguised. For a Lion.

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There was something uncannily calm about the Death Eaters.

Hadrian noticed it the moment Voldemort trapped him against the fence, the top of the lattice biting into the small of his back, and those narrowed eyes told him the Dark Lord wasn't fooled. At all. Nor were his servants. Lucius Malfoy stared him down from his spot near the entrance to the house, and Snape, in the usual manner, glared as if he had found an unwanted ingredient about to drop into a complex, and highly dangerous, potion. He finally noted the Lestrange brothers, both whom were walking across the street, and he sighed.

"I suppose you all would like some tea."

"You intend to _invite _us inside, Potter?" The clear disbelief in the Dark Lord's tone was easy to pick up. Hadrian shrugged. With his arm draped over Voldemort's, it was easy to feel the shift in muscle as the man tightened his grip on the fence behind him. Offering an innocent smile, Hadrian added, "For one, I highly doubt a _blood ward _could keep you out. Considering the incident in the graveyard, I would say it's null."

"How astute of you."

"He's not as daft as he makes himself out to be be."

Hadrian scowled, his gaze flickering between the various wizards, and felt a soft smile inch across his face as the Dursleys' vehicle eased itself into the driveway. As Vernon stepped out of the car, the raven-haired youth waved before he called out, "Uncle, we have guests! Shall I go and make tea?"

Vernon looked between the four men, and then at Hadrian himself and the closeness of the Dark Lord, before slowly nodding.

"Of course. There should be some fruit in the fridge as well..."

Leveling an even look on the Dark Lord, he murmured, "Though I think your plans for _killing _me will have to wait. Anything set to 'annihilate or destroy,' in spells, has been warded directly to the Ministry. Per Dumbledore's orders. Something about me having a knack for some rather _unsavory _destructive habits."

Dunking under Voldemort's arm, Hadrian grinned. As he went inside, he called over his shoulder, "I hope you told the councilor that I'm sorry for scaring her clients!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Author Note**

It took me some time to get this chapter wrote out, but I find the events to be mildly humorous. Especially towards the end. I do realize there is a question asked about Harry and his relationship with his relatives, and that will be explained in the upcoming chapters. Until then, I implore you all to enjoy the story, and I hope you found some amusement out of the interactions between all of the characters in this chapter.

Read, Enjoy, and _Review!_

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He invited them in. _Hadrian Potter _invited him inside his home, and then tossed a wicked grin at his pale guardians.

Marvolo followed the small boy inside, slipping out of his shoes once inside and leaving them by the door. Lucius, blinking owlishly, looked equally confused by the sudden turn of events that neither of them had thought would happen. Perhaps he should have Narcissa and Draco join in on their fun? It might be easier to get a better understanding of the Dursleys if they had someone younger to interact with them. Though getting Draco to keep a civil front with a muggle, let alone one as fat as the Dursleys' boy, was a long shot in the dark. Narcissa, though? Marvolo felt a slow, dark smile crossing his face at the thought of the pureblooded woman walking circles around an oblivious Petunia Dursley. It would be pleasing to watch, and even more so once he was done _playing _with them.

Hadrian, though? The one was something else.

_Afraid of him, Rabastan had said. _As he stepped into the living area of the Dursleys' home, and as Hadrian vanished through a doorway, presumably into the kitchen, he noted that his family was still pale. Petunia, despite being horse-like, seemed to have smoothed down any ruffled feathers, and was encouraging them to make themselves at home in her living room. With a swift word from the mother, Dudley was upstairs and out of sight. _Scared? They are uneasy, that is certain. Perhaps afraid that he will use magic in front of us? They are unaware of our own status..._

Rodolphus was off to the side, next to a shelf examining the pictures there, and when he spoke, it drew everyone's attention, "You have no pictures of your nephew, from what I can see."

Severus was also looking over them, a ghost of a scowl working its way onto the Potions Master's face. Petunia offered a tight smile as she answered, "No, we don't have any pictures of him on display. Hadrian doesn't like cameras in general, so we try our best to make him as comfortable as we possibly can before he returns to St. Brutus's every fall."

"What kind of school is St. Brutus, if you don't mind me asking?" Lucius was lounged in a thick chair, foot crossed over knee, but his gaze was sharp. Marvolo chuckled inwardly, taking a seat as Hadrian came back into the room with a large trey balanced on one hand. The boy was the one to answer, a smile in place. "St. Brutus? It's a privet school to the south. My uncle picked it out due to the fact it could meet my _special _needs, sir."

"Special needs?"

Petunia was noticeably paler. As was Vernon, now that he took note of the large man sitting across from him. Vernon took the tea when his nephew offered the cup to him, as did Petunia, but, as the boy made to leave, Marvolo caught hold of the boy's thin wrist. Squeezing ever-so-slightly, subtly noting the way the boy winced, he pulled Hadrian Potter back into their awkward circle and perched the boy directly where he wanted him. If the muggles could get any _more _uncomfortable, he would have laughed. As it was, he merely offered a shark-like smile.

"Where were we?"

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_Now this is mildly unsettling..._Hadrian shifted, mentally debating launching a spell at the Dark Lord, for this stunt. Not that his aunt and uncle's faces weren't priceless, they were, but that was _beside _the point. He had not expected Tom Riddle, Dark Lord extraordinaire, Dark Lord of Magical Britain, to have pulled him onto his lap. The man was a good deal taller than him, and Tom, fingers digging painfully into his side, continued speaking as if nothing had happened.

"If your nephew has a habit of blowing things up, I would imagine that it would take a special staff to tend to his needs. Lucius, here, has a son of his own." Hadrian blinked at the mention of Draco, and felt a string of unease travel up his spine. The Dark Lord gestured to the tea, and Lucius poured him one, and then another for himself, before continuing, "The boy has a few destructive habits of his own, but nothing so serious as Hadrian's. From what my friend tells me, the lad makes perfect grades in school, and his studies keep his urges curbed."

He blinked in confusion, and then felt a bubble of amusement. It died as Snape sat next to them, and caught hold of his knee. His gaze slowly shifted to his professor, and then he eyed the small plate of fruit the man was offering. Taking it, not sure _how _to respond, he frowned. He offered a gentle thanks, and plucked the fresh strawberry off the plate and bit into it. Snape did not remove his arm from his lap, and Malfoy, sitting on Tom's other side, caged him in entirely by mirroring Snape's movements.

_I never thought I would see the day I would be sprawled in the world's most dangerous killer's lap like some kind of treasure. _He hunted a grape from the tray, and popped it into his mouth as he added, _nor did I think I would come across a situation that Snape, or Malfoy, would willingly touch me. Huh._

"How old is your boy, Lucius?" Vernon questioned as Dudley came downstairs. Malfoy answered, "He is turning fifteen soon."

"Roughly the same age as Dudders, then." Petunia smiled, and Hadrian looked between the various people in the room. Despite the friendly exterior the wizards were offering, he knew each were cringing at Dudley's nickname. He wasn't surprised. Hadrian felt he had received the better end of the 'Nickname Stick' when compared to his cousin. 'Boy,' or even 'Freak,' were far more pleasant than _Dudders._

Voldemort, however, confirmed the sense of unease as he said, "As it is, Rodolphus's wife will be arriving in due time with her sister and nephew. Perhaps this weekend we can have a meal together? Saturday, perhaps? The news stated it would be hot enough, and I'm _dying _to test out my grill."

It was official. He was completely and utterly screwed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author Note**

I do realize the chapters in this are on the shorter side compared to my other works, but it works in my favor. While I don't update continuously, I do continue writing, and, when the time hits that I can _actually _write, I take it. As it is, I'm in college and working. So I don't have too much time on my hands given I am a rather busy person.

However, I still enjoy writing this.

Read, Enjoy, and _Review!_

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There was something about being caged in by Vernon Dursley, where no one could see, that made Hadrian prepare for the worst. The man was generally foul, his nature unpredictable, and, even being shy of fifteen years, the raven-haired youth realized a bad situation when he saw one. He had enough experience gained throughout the years to see it when it was coming. Plenty of professors had tried to kill him, and this was something that echoed in the back of his mind as his uncle continued to rant.

This would, without doubt, get _bad_. The dark promise in his uncle's eyes, it was unmistakable as the jarring shock when pain erupted in his gut.

Perhaps _baiting _his uncle really _was _a bad idea.

His breath whooshed out of him as he doubled over, and, teeth grit, the small teen shuddered. Behind him, the silverware began to clatter across the stone counter. The steady thrum of magic filled the air around him, the air cooling, and pain flared before he found himself sprawled on the ground. Above him, Vernon voice rose, his rant increasing in intensity to the point it was impossible for the boy's ringing ears to translate. He only knew that the pain was translating into _'flaming bloody pissed off Uncle Vernon.' _

Not uncommon, but unwelcome. As he pressed his back into the counters, he said, grin in place, "Do _too _much, Uncle, and Riddle and his friends are going to wonder why I'm limping when we see them next."

His Uncle froze, hand upraised, and, voice lowering, Hadrian added, "And let's not forget about Sirius. If he caught wind of this..."

Vernon's face turned purple, and the hand, wavering in midair, slowly lowered to his side. A vicious smile threatened to appear, but, as he sat hunkered next to the counter, he didn't dare let it become visible. His uncle's temper was as wild as Hadrian's magic. Much to his surprise, his uncle crouched in front of him, eyes narrowed, and he spoke with venom, "One foot out of line, freak, and you'll regret it. Not another jab out of you in front of Mr. Riddle and his companions. _Especially _in front of their son. And I don't want you doing _anything _that will ruin Dudley's chance on making a friend with Lucius's son. Got that, freak?"

"Of _course_, Uncle Vernon."

The stinging pain that shot across his face was answer. It hurt less than the words his uncle spat after. "You're no family of mine, freak."

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It was a _nightmare._

Draco stared at his surroundings, visibly disgusted, and tightened his grip on the handle of his suitcase. Did he _really _agree to this? _Really _agree? With his mother on his heel, the soft whisper of her dress ghosting in the air around him, he realized he had, indeed, agreed to this charade. If it hadn't been for Lord Marvolo, he would have refused. Yet he couldn't deny the inkling of curiosity about the life his _rival _lived outside of Hogwarts. How he acted, and behaved, when outside the presence of a mudblood and traitor. A _blood _traitor, at that.

The fact his _family _was composed of muggles didn't slip his mind. He had heard how everyone always talked about how pampered his yearmate was, how his life was everything anyone could want. There were times, however, when the boy flinched away from their professors. He kept his answers short and as vague as possible without being wrong. Factors that went against _everything _rumors said were true composed the very essence of Hadrian Potter.

He made his way to his quarters in the house, the smallness of the building itself disconnecting, but he admitted it was...pleasing. His father and the others were obviously intent on making their stay, and their master's, as comfortable as Marvolo Slytherin, the Dark Lord himself, crossed paths with him, Draco bowed his head in greeting.

A wave of shock flowed through him when a hand gently guided his head upward.

"Bow not to me, Draco." Lord Marvolo murmured. "Here, in this place, we are equals. I demand respect, but I do not want groveling. That is unbecoming of a Malfoy. It is unbecoming of _any _pureblood. Be the pureblood you are supposed to be, and not anything less."

He blinked, and then nodded.

After being dismissed, he made his way upstairs. To his room. It was muggle. It was empty. Draco dropped his luggage on the bed, a scowl marring his features, and spelled the suitcase open. Then he remembered. No magic. He closed his eyes, and, teeth grit, placed his wand in its holster before manually emptying his trunk and placing everything, by _hand, _in order. Books on the shelves. Clothing in the drawers. School books, hidden under notice-me-nots, rested on the desk. This was _too _muggle.

His father left shortly after he arrived, promising to return for the 'party' tonight. Ministry business, his mother had explained. She was three doors down unpacking. His...aunt...was across the hall. And she was laughing. Manically. He questioned her husband's location.

He sighed. He walked across the room, and leaned against the window to look at the house across the street from theirs. 4 Privet Drive. He mildly wondered why the house he was in was _7 _instead of _5, _but knew better than to question it. As he tugged on the dress shirt, he sighed. Muggle-made as they were, he had to admit that it was well done. Top class, no doubt. His father wouldn't wear anything else.

"Draco?" He looked over to see his mother is a flowing white skirt and periwinkle blue top, Roman-inspired sandals on her feet. It was odd to see her hair pulled up in a soft bun, strands loose to frame her face. Even as she glided across the room to stand behind him, one hand combing through his hair, messing it up in the process, he couldn't help but notice the way that, even with the way she was dressed, she still held herself like a queen. Her voice was gentle as she murmured, "We have a part to play, my dragon. An important one. I know not what Lord Marvolo is playing , but he wishes us to join in. So we shall."

Draco realized that. Instead, he turned to his mother, and said, "I just have a feeling that something isn't right. This entire place..."

Narcissa Malfoy ran her hands through his hair. "I know, little dragon. I sense it as well."

When night fell, he should have realized the obvious.

_Nothing _was simple with Potter.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author Note**

To start. I'm very pleased that everyone is enjoying this story. It's got a _lot _of humor in it, from what I've been able to see, with some underlining serious issues. However, as I'm one who generally gets scenes in my head...this one leapt from the depths of my mind, and it made me laugh so much that I had to write it out for all of you to enjoy. It also moves along nicely with the last installment, and the humor in this might be a bit...twisted. However, I do think that everyone is going to like this chapter, and I'm expecting that most of you will probably laugh out loud.

I want to hear from all of you. Let me know what you think so far. This chapter can take so _many _turns, and hearing everyone's thoughts on what this could lead to...makes me grin. This entire chapter is interesting. I loved it. Flowed out of me. Anyway, I'll end the AN here so you all can get to the story. Hopefully these little blurbs aren't too irritating, but I do like to express how much all of you, and your enjoyment, means to me.

Read, Enjoy, and _Review!_

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**Rating**: T

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He hadn't _meant _for it to happen.

Cooking was something he did on a _regular _basis, but this...was not. He fanned the smoke, yelping when his skin came in contact with the hot metal plates, and leapt away when Petunia, always quick on her feet, through a pan of water over the crackling device. Vernon, sitting on his backside and gaping like a fish, did nothing more than stare in complete and utter horror. Dudley ran out of the house screaming something about pigs and tails. Hadrian, cursing up a storm and trying to figure out how to reverse the fire without blowing up the _rest _of the house, nearly came out of his skin when a firm hand grasped his wrist. A second passed before he found himself pushed backwards, toppling over the arm of the couch, with an undignified yelp.

He rolled, landing hard on his knees, and felt his magic hiss around him as Voldemort, quicker than a snake, caught him around the waist and hauled him back onto the couch. It was a matter of seconds before the Dark Lord was hovering over him, a scowl on his face, and the distinct voice of panicking neighbors and the sharp vocals of Lucius and one of the twins filtered into his senses. As he twisted, trying to dislodge the larger male, he heard an all _too _familiar voice drawl, "Really, Potty, you should just lay there like a good Lion."

"Screw you, Malfoy!"

"Thanks, but no."

"Hold _still, _Potter." The sharp hiss was a mixture between English and Parseltongue, and, trapped, bent backwards over the arm of the sofa, Hadrian found his ire steadily increasing. Hadrian grit his teeth, but, when a knee pressed _too _close to a boundary he didn't want crossed, he forced himself still. His eyes narrowed, and the general dislike for the entire situation was expressed through the venomous glare of killer green irises. Gritting his teeth, he snapped, "Why the _hell _are you all here?!"

"The rear of your house _exploded, _Mr. Potter." It was Snape that spoke, the sharp tones of his voice, cutting and generally cold, unmistakable.

"I told you I like blowing shit up."

In the background, he heard his uncle choke. Or was that his aunt?

"Not to mention your _cousin _ran down the street screaming something about pigs, tails, and _magic_." Voldemort murmured, a wicked grin stretching across his face. From the doorway, he heard Vernon howl, "No such thing! Magic!? What magic? Nothing to see here! I'll take care of my nephew!"

"Didn't you just say -"

_"Shut _it, boy!" When Vernon made a gesture for Voldemort to move, the Dark Lord merely sat back, straddling one thigh, as he asked, rather sweetly, "I do have to ask, Mr. Dursley, where all those _bruises _came from?"

_Bruises? What bruises?_ Hadrian's very thoughts were echoed by his uncle, and the raven-haired youth, blinking, felt his eyes widen in horror when a cold hand grazed the skin of his abdomen. Nails scraped the skin, and, shocked into stillness, he registered his entire situation. Him, spread out on the couch. His uncle, seething. The amused glint in everyone's, minus his aunt, eyes. His _shirt, _rolled up high on his chest and pants riding low. Dark Lord, Murderer of Parents, Bane of his Life, and the Man-Who-Tried-To-Kill-Him-Every-Damn-Year on top of him. An irrational burst of heat exploded, his face flushing, his skin glowing a vibrant red from his face to the soles of his feet, and he panicked.

"You _bloody,_ Merlindamnedfucking _pedo_ on _steroids_!" Hadrian's hand collided with Voldemort's face, knocking his backwards with a startling amount of power, a burst of magic whipping outwards, and, in flight-or-fight, toppled off the couch, stumbled, and darted out of the room. He heard Snape yelling at him for language, but he paid it no heed as he dashed out the backyard, jumped the hedges, and vanished into the forest behind it.

And he was rather certain he saw Fenrir Greyback marking his territory as he passed.

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A shocked silence fell over the the Dursley household as Hadrian Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, vanished after bounding a good seven feet in the air to clear the hedge in the back of the Dursley's yard. With the kitchen's wall missing, the wood scorched, a sense of complete disbelief settled over the room. Some in shock to the vulgar words that came out of the boy's mouth. Others to the smoke clogging the air. And, lastly, the wizards to the utter rudeness showed to the Dark Lord, from the very boy they were befuddled by, who outranked him in magic tenfold.

Then Draco began laughing.

Bella, standing in the doorway, was giggling like mad. Her husband, with an arm around her waist, had a hand clamped over his mouth, his head bowed, was trembling with repressed mirth. Lucius, blank-faced, was twitching. Snape was seething, already stepping through the hole in the wall while muttering something about mindless Lions, while Narcissa, staring at her surroundings in complete wonder, absently went about righting overturned objects with a dark glint in her eye. Marvolo was certain half of those items would be missing afterwards, and crushed into oblivion by magic.

He rose from the ground, his cheek stinging, and he absently ran a hand through his hair.

And, from behind him, he heard someone ask, "Did that...did he..._really?"_

His gaze shifted towards Vernon Dursley, who was on the ground and trembling and looking about ready to faint. Petunia was looking around her in dismay, and slowly sank to the ground in defeat. His gaze slid towards the door the fat lard of a son ran through, and absently wondered how the boy could run so quickly when he his weight pulled on him so heavily. And _none _of that was muscle, no matter _what _the stupid muggles said.

"I believe we were talking about _bruises, _Mr. Dursley, before your nephew bolted. Care to explain?"

Vernon Dursley turned white.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author Note**

Once again, I have been absent for quite a while. For this, I am sorry. I do work on this story when I am presented enough time to do so, so my updates tend to be a bit uneven and unpredictable. This is largely due to the fact I'm working, in college, and my sister is due to go into labor at any moment. And we're doing construction on the house. I am also working on an original piece of fiction, a novel, and that has taken up a great deal of my time. However, I do intend to keep writing on my Fan-Fics, so patience, my loyal readers. And I work _nights, _so my timetable is very messed up.

Sadly, this chapter isn't as long as I would have liked, but it does offer many possibilities. I also have enjoyed reading the reviews of the previous chapters, and am looking forward to see what everyone thinks of _this _chapter. It was fun to read, and I find a great stress reliever in this as well. For those who don't know, I advise that you never work at WalMart. Never. Fan-Fiction is a great stress reliever for that hell (as is Skyrim - maybe I'll do a FF for that after I get all my current stories finished?)

Anyway. Without further Ado!

Read, Enjoy, and _Review!_

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**Rating**: T

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There was something...phenomenal...about the situation in its entirety.

Marvolo stalked closer to where the _whale _sat, pale and a blight to existence. The other muggles outside of the Dursleys were unconscious, the spells having hit fast and hard. One was toppled over the top of a vase, snoring, and another was reclining on the stairwell at the front of the house. Petunia Dursley, a woman he knew Severus was familiar with due to _Lily Potter, _merely sat there, resigned, watched him pass with a look of utter hopelessness. His smile eased onto his face as Vernon, blubbering nonsense, tried to scoot away.

Like it would make a difference.

"Bruises, Mr. Dursley." He stated, calmly, as his wand twirled around between his fingers. "Last I checked, it is a capital offense to _abuse _a child in your care. Bane of my life or not, that also applies to Potter."

A mental laugh rang through his mind at the thought of their reactions when he had pulled the boy on his lap not all that long ago. Outrage. Disbelief. Fury. He could recall each emotion. He could remember how the air was thick with sensations, their ire sharp and unyielding. As he stopped in front of the whale washed ashore, he smiled. "As it is, this _farce _has reached a new level, Mr. Dursley, and I do not like being ignored."

Lazily, Marvolo pressed the tip of his yew wand, the wood pale and alive with sentient magic, against the man's temple.

"There's two ways we can do this; you can tell me, or I'll carve the truth out of your head. The choice...is yours."

The smile he wore was anything but pleasant.

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Hadrian ran like his _life _depended on it. He didn't stop. He didn't slow down. He ran.

Inwardly, he mentally berated himself for the slip. Cursing _Merlin _in front the Dursleys? Salazar! _Godric! _He dunked under a branch, and, with a burst of speed, found himself stumbling out of the woods and into an old abandoned park deep within the wilderness surrounding Little Whining, Surrey. He collapsed against the swing set, and sank into the worn leather with a chocked laugh.

"I...knocked Riddle in the face." The thought brought a snort from him, and he propped his elbows on his knees.

_"Merlin, _ I knocked the _Dark Lord _on his ass..."

The thought alone made his blood chill. He absently ran a hand through his hair, his fingers catching on the snags in it, and found a grin pulling at his mouth. That entire ordeal...was surreal. He wasn't sure how long he sat out in the cold, but evening slowly descended, and he sensed the magic approaching before a lithe form dropped on the seat next to him. A quick glance showed it to be Malfoy, the _younger _one, and Hadrian found himself wondering how the teen tracked him down through the forest.

"I knew you could run, Potty, but _that _was impressive." The blonde said some time after sitting down, one hand resting on the chain of the swing set, and then he felt those grey eyes boring into the side of his face. Hadrian shook his head, shrugged, and answered, "I've always been a good runner."

"No shit." He came out of his seat, whirling around, to find Snape standing there, arms folded, and a scowl marring his features. "Do you have _any _clue how hard it is to track you down in a forest at this time of night? _Especially _when your magic is everywhere? Your magical signature is impossible to _trace _when it covers every inch of this forest."

"Uh...then how...you...Draco?"

Snape shook his head. "Salazer..."

Hadrian found himself shifting from one foot to the other, his eyes darting from one side of the part to the other in search for the most obvious threat. One that he _knew _was close. He could _sense _him in the area, just beyond his range, and found himself trembling. His gaze shifted back to his professor, and, after clearing his throat, muttered, "Not like I can control that aspect, you know..."

"Nonsense." Snape dismissed, a scowl in place. "Controlling your magic is a simple task. That _is _what your wand is for."

"And how do you explain the kitchen I _blew up?" _Hadrian felt the scowl, the irritation, and the heavy exhaustion wearing him out. Weighing him down. It was impossible to concentrate, and, as he sank into the seat of the swing, he scowled at his professor. "So what exactly are you all planning? Obviously not _killing _me, given that I'm _still _alive. Torture is possible..."

His mother's scream echoed in the back of his mind. The steady pulse of familiar magic neared.

Hadrian sighed. Voldemort was approaching, and the air around him reeked of dark magic. Even as the man stepped into the clearing, flanked by his followers, and, indeed, one Fenrir Greyback, Hadrian realized this entire situation was more than he could withstand. Even Draco Malfoy, sitting by him on one of two swings, was not an ideal fit for the muggle settlement. And, if judging by the magic wrapping around these wizards, and few witches, it was only a matter of time before the Ministry showed up.

His gaze shifted between those standing in front of him, a bit of irritation mixing in his blood as Voldemort, Dark Lord of the Century, came to stop before him. Dark Hair. Red eyes. Pale skin. No scales. No snake face. He had a nose. He wondered if Snape was behind this new appearance. With the magic wrapping around them, a deadly cocoon of power, Hadrian knew that there were no glamours. There were no spells. Everything, and everyone, was at their fullest. Seen as they truly are.

He stiffened when thin, long fingers grasped his chin and forced him to look up. Red met green.

"It seems we have a great deal to discuss, my little lion." Those eyes were unreadable. Hadrian curled his hands into fists, nails biting into palms, as he clenched his pants in weak, trembling and exhausted hands. The action was seen, and the Dark Lord, dark victory, and something akin to amusement, leaned in, the hissed words soft and inviting against his ear. '_A great deal indeed.'_


End file.
